26 Reasons
by HoT.aGaiNsT.a.WaLL
Summary: 26 Reasons why they should.
1. Awkward

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it, but couldn't resist doing a little dip into the Shassie paradise.

**Caution:** Shassie = Shawn/Lassie. I'm sure you can figure that out.

**A/N:** A list of 26 words, all starting with a different letter of the Alphabet, and a story/reason behind everyone. I hope you like it. Please review.

-d-d-d-d-d-

Awkward

because the silence between them always is…

Blue met green, and they suddenly realized how it must look to others. Shawn let out a strained chuckle, palming the back of his head guiltily before he slid out of Calrton's lap. He'd flung himself down there while having a particularly violent 'vision', and after the years of working together, Carlton had just let him sit there as he ranted about the murder. They only separated when Juliet cleared her throat, giving them both a look that spoke in volumes.

A strange silence fell on the people in the room. It was like their mouths had been stuffed with cotton. During this quiet, Shawn couldn't help but miss the lap he'd previously occupied…

TBC.


	2. Bad

**Bad**

-because it's more than just a Michael Jackson song…

Bad. This was just horrible, horrid, hazardous—and some other 'H' word he couldn't think of. Shawn Spencer had always been… eccentric to say the least. He was abnormal and hyper and he would always spit out whatever came to mind first. He was used to his own ways, and so were the people around him. Now, the only problem was, he couldn't bring himself to say what had been floating in his mind for the past week.

Rather, he _could_ say it, but he didn't exactly _want_ to. If he did, he'd probably find himself shot—or worse, hated by the one person he didn't want to be hated by.

So, instead he avoided all contact. He even stopped going into the station. He was thinking about running away again, too. Because he _couldn't_ say it, but—_oh_, he knew he'd let it slip. He couldn't _not_ tell him if the man was standing right in front of him.

But these thoughts were bad…

TBC.


	3. Can't

**Can't**

- because he really wants to…

"What do you mean you 'can't'?" Carlton asked, his face screwed up in disgust at just the mention of the word.

It had been two weeks since Spencer had graced the SBPD with his charmingly annoying presence, and Head Detective Carlton Lassiter was sick and tired of his coworkers asking about the suede-psychic. So, instead of just waiting it out (his original plan), he'd driven over to the shorter man's office to find out what, if anything, was wrong (Juliet's plan). He'd sat outside in the car for fifteen minutes before he _actually_ clambered his way out of his vehicle and over to the front door. There, he danced for another five until the door jerked open to reveal a rather flustered looking Burton Guster.

There was a quick conversation, and it didn't take any stretch of deductive skills to piece together just _why_ Gus was so worked up. The black man had let him in without a moment's hesitation, and shut the door behind himself on his way out. Carlton was confused for a second, but then he'd heard the yelling and followed it back into the main office, only to be almost decapitated by a flying book. A string of imaginative curses that would make a sailor blush hit him next and sent him reeling. It seemed Shawn still thought he was yelling at Gus until Carlton had growled out a low, threatening 'Spencer'.

Shawn squawked in surprise, his hazel eyes going wide before he dove behind his desk for cover. Carlton had to blink a few times before it really registered, and he dove after. He'd pulled the brunette out by the dirty, wrinkled shirt collar and had pushed him against the wall before the true fear in those light eyes truly hit home. Carlton had given a quizzical look, and only received a stammered 'I can't'.

"You 'can't'?" He asked again, hands tightening in the softness of Shawn's shirt. "I haven't even asked anything, yet."

"What's that matter?" Shawn replied, voice high with skepticism. "Can't I just be a good BFFL and state, upfront, that whatever you want, I can't do?"

Carlton paused a moment, blue eyes narrowing. "No."

"Why _not_?" Shawn asked in exasperation.

"Because, Spencer," his grip loosened. "We beckon, you come. That's how this works. And I'm not your best friend for life."

He could have sworn he saw a flash of hurt in Shawn's gaze, but it was gone before he could be sure and replaced by mirth. "Aww, Lassie-face, did you learn text talk just for me?"

"Hardly, Spencer," Carlton rolled his eyes, releasing his captive and immediately missing the softness of Shawn's shirt.

Shawn nodded slowly, like he was digesting some new facts. He looked anywhere but at Carlton, and cleared his throat before resuming his visual tour of his office. With a sigh, the older man ran a hand through his hair and looked longingly at the door.

"Why are you here?" Shawn's voice cracked.

"Came by to let you know that O'Hara is worried," he said, commanding his legs to walk away from the kicked-puppy that was Shawn Spencer. "And that you're job is at risk with all this going MIA crap. Chief Vick isn't going to believe that story you told about getting 'lost' on the road of life."

An almost imperceptible grin spread on Shawn's lips. "Talked to my dad?"

"Called him before I came over," he conceded, making eye contact with Shawn. "Get back to work, Spencer."

Shawn nodded again, his eyebrows furrowed like he was thinking something serious. He opened his mouth and the words 'I can't' were already forming. With lightening reflexes, Carlton was on him, hand clapping over Shawn's mouth with a force that knocked the younger man's head back against the wall.

"_Don't_ say it," he warned, voice low. "Just nod. You're coming into the station even if I have to come back here tomorrow and throw cuffs on you to do it."

Shawn's eyes widened against before he nodded his head rapidly.

"Good," he gave a sharp smile before pulling away and speeding out the door with his hand tingling and his face starting to burn. "See you tomorrow."

**TBC.**


	4. Doubt

**Doubt**

- because it can't be true…

Carlton had always doubted the man was psychic. He'd doubted his coworkers' sanity and the chief's mental condition for ever believing him. Never once, though, did Carlton ever doubt his own state of mind. In his opinion, he was the _only_ one with even half a brain when it came to Shawn Spencer. Even the man's best friend went along with the act—and if there wasn't something completely wrong with that then he wasn't Head Detective.

Recently, however, he'd honestly been doubting his _own_ sanity. He'd always felt overwhelming emotions (mostly consisting of annoyance, irritation, anger) when it came to Shawn, but things seemed different since that day at the Psyche offices. Shawn hadn't touched him during a 'vision' in weeks. Sure, he was back helping solve crime, but it didn't feel the same. Carlton knew he should be happy that he wasn't being molested on a regular basis anymore, but instead he felt dejected and kind of forgotten.

Which is why he was questioning his own sanity. He didn't even like Sh—Spencer as a _friend_, and yet here he was reading the same sentence over and over again. He couldn't even concentrate on work anymore. Rubbing his temples, he let out a tired sigh because all of this self-doubt was giving him a migraine.

**TBC.**


	5. Epiphany

**Epiphany**

- because it all comes to you eventually…

He was in love.

Dear God, he'd _been_ in love for who _knew_ how long! It was mind-boggling and it left him in a dazed stupor even as Shawn paraded around the station with that damned grin on his lips. It had been that grin that had been his undoing. He'd been listening to Shawn rant on about the newest murder case that had been dropped into their laps, and had watched as Shawn wrapped his arm casually around Juliet's shoulders. It was a sign of familiarity that had sent a flare of anger and annoyance straight to Carlton's gut, and made his fists clench tightly. He'd stood with sharp movements, walking over and brushing against Shawn with a harsh collision of their shoulders.

Hazel eyes tracked him over to the water cooler in the bullpen. When Carlton had finished his shot of lukewarm water, his thirst was still beyond unquenched, and his anger was still boiling in his stomach. He turned around ready to walk back to his desk, when he almost ran into Shawn. The younger man was staring at him in concern with a hint of hurt confusion. Normally, Carlton would have been able to resist the kicked-puppy eyes, but it had been so long since they'd been directed his way that he wasn't quite sure what to do.

"You okay, Lassie?" He asked, head tilting quite cutely to the left (and, dear lord, he'd really thought that was cute).

Carlton had almost smiled, but chose to keep his face at a neutral impasse as he nodded, speaking reassuringly. "Fine. Just too much paperwork recently."

"_Lassie_," Shawn's face betrayed his surprised tone, as he seemed to glow from within at not being simply brushed off. "Are you learning the way of the paper-hating ninja? You can always get Gus to do it for you. That's what I always do. Especially around tax season…"

"What are you talking about, Spencer?" Carlton asked dryly, earning a movie star grin from the smaller man.

"Not a thing, Lassie-pants," he said, turning on his heel, voice almost playful (flirtatious?). "Not a thing."

Carlton's heart jumped. That grin of Shawn's always got a strange reaction out of him. It had always made him feel sort of queasy. Lately, it had been making his gut clench, his hands sweat, and his pulse race. If he didn't know any better, he'd say that he had a _crush_ on the pseudo-psychic.

But _that_ was impossible…

Then again, he had been feeling rather dejected without Shawn groping him up and down, left and right. Carlton frowned as he made his way back to his desk. He _had_ been feeling exceptionally angry with anyone who Spencer touched or talked to. Some might've even said that he was _jealous_. As he took his seat, he looked up and caught Spencer's—_Shawn's_ hazel gaze. The younger man looked away quickly, a soft blush barely staining his tan cheeks even as he kept that grin plastered to his mouth.

His mouth…

Carlton's gaze dropped to his lips, and his heart stuttered again. He couldn't pull his eyes away, and his own mouth felt dry as Shawn licked his lips. He couldn't help but wonder if they tasted as good as they looked—

A strangled gasp caught in his throat, and his eyes widened. It wasn't the first time he'd thought about Spencer's lips. He'd grown used to it after the first few times it had happened a month back. The only problem was, _his_ Shawn was frowning, and all Carlton wanted was to kiss that frown away. He wanted to make whatever was vexing Shawn leave. He wanted _his_ Shawn happy and smiling and groping _him_ (not some random officer that went walking by).

"Dear god," he muttered to himself in disbelief. "I'm in love."

**TBC.**


End file.
